


to anchor within you, sealed in waves

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Series: Fics for t100 Fic for BLM Initiative [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Pirate!AU, Protective!Murphy, References to Character Death, Rivals to Lovers, because they’re not quite enemies tbh, doctor!clarke, historical setting, sort of royalty!Clarke, tags will be updated as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: Governor’s daughter Clarke Griffin lives above the port of Polis Landing and her idyllic life takes a turn after Chancellor Pike begins to crack down on piracy. It spreads seeds of doubt and death throughout the lands, forcing people such as her father to lead the way in eradicating pirates. And all of it comes to a head though when an assassination threat is made on her life. Before Clarke can fully process it, she’s swept aboard the pirate ship Eden. There, she’ll be kept safe on the high seas. All while being under the watchful eye of notorious pirate, John Murphy.She doesn’t have an option––she now has to trust him with her life. And just maybe her heart as well.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Series: Fics for t100 Fic for BLM Initiative [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069367
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	to anchor within you, sealed in waves

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my newest fic! This was a prompt created through t100 Fic for BLM. If this is the first you’ve heard of it, it’s an initiative where writers and content creators are accepting prompts for donations that help support the BLM cause. If you want to learn more about it, you can check out the carrd for it [here](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)! 
> 
> It's, of course, going to have some heavy inspiration from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ , as well as some general pirate themed content I consumed as a child. This is also my first time writing Clurphy and I'm really excited for what's to come in this story with them! You can find the moodboard for this fic [here](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/post/642512152396169216/to-anchor-within-you-sealed-in-waves-a-clurphy), created by the amazing hopskipaway. 
> 
> Thanks for checking it out and I hope you enjoy it!

Polis Landing was a sprawling, sea-side port that was tucked back into a cove. Leading up to it was a bright blue body of water, turquoise under the midday sun and a rich, vibrant navy at the edges as it merged with the iridescent blue sky. Jagged rocks shielded the bay from most storms and it had a thriving community to it, earned through trade and support from the Chancellor’s Royal Navy. 

To eight-year-old Clarke Griffin, daughter of the early-retired general-turned-governor Jacob Griffin, it was simply home.

The tropical landscape was all she had ever known, never having once been to Sanctum, where the Chancellor lived who oversaw everything. The land that her family lived on was all that she needed. So it was rare that she made her way into the port at all.

The town of the port, more condensed than that of the part of Polis back where she lived and most of the farms and larger homes were, was always busy it seemed. People constantly fighting to make a bit of money, to earn some good trades, and to live life to their fullest. A multitude of smells wafted through the air, spices she didn’t recognize and meats that made her stomach growl. It was hectic, much more so than her home. She liked the energy though. It made her smile and her head spin.

She was here with her maid, a woman named Byrne. It wasn’t tradition for her to come down, especially with Clarke, but something had come up. Before Clarke had even had time to process her excitement, she’d found herself in a carriage making her way down the port with Byrne assuring her that it would be a quick errand. They were both blonde and when dressed in simpler clothes than normal, Clarke could almost pass for her daughter. That must have been why she felt it was safe enough to bring her, rather than leave her wholly unsupervised at home with her parents out.

So after having Clarke swear that she wouldn’t wander off once they reached town, Byrne entered some type of store that was filled with herbs that Clarke had never seen before, greeting a young woman waiting in the back with a hug before the two disappeared into the back. A part of her was curious about what was going on, but Byrne was usually very strict with her and she didn’t want to ruin her chances of ever getting to come back to the port again. So hung outside, humming softly to herself as she looked around with wide-eyes.

She took in the casual ways that the women dressed, the occasional Arkadian Navy officer coming up from the piers. Everyone was focused on themselves and their lives, ignoring her completely. She loved it. Being invisible was an impossible task at home. She shifted her focus from a young couple that was kissing more aggressively than anything she’d ever seen, looking over to her right until she found someone else that seemed even more interesting.

A boy who appeared to be about her age was hovering alongside the wall of one of the buildings next to her. She almost glanced past him, continuing her study of everything, but she found herself looking back at him. 

He was curious looking, with long floppy brown hair that was sort of stringy. His clothes had a lot of patches in them and were covered in dirt. He clearly must live down here in the port. He was also acting a bit suspicious and she found her interest piqued. She watched as the boy’s eyes darted around. He was clearly used to making sure he wasn’t being watched. But he wasn’t used to young blonde girls who were doing everything they could to take in everything they could while down here. So when his eyes met hers, he nearly jumped right out of his skin. 

He quickly glanced back over his shoulder, and once he realized that it was definitely him that she was looking at, he looked back at her with a frown.

And then had the nerve to make a  _ shooing _ motion with his hands as if to tell her to go away.

Well, she certainly didn’t have to listen to bossy boys who she didn’t even know. Clarke decided to cross her arms over her chest instead, staring even more so at him a defiant manner. Even with the distance between them, she could see him roll his eyes.

But when it was increasingly obvious that she had no intentions of looking a different way, he sighed dramatically. Glancing around him once more, he looked over and now raised a finger to his lips. He needed her to be quiet. Though she enjoyed pushing boundaries, this now felt like a game. And as someone with no siblings and her best friend back in Sanctum, she was eager to participate. 

This time in response, she nodded and sucked in her cheeks as if to somehow make herself quieter. Satisfied, the boy ducked closer to the stall.

She felt like they were rather obvious, but in a busy town like this, there was no time to worry about children underfoot. The baker didn’t pay any attention to either of them, continuing to loudly proclaim the quality of his wares to anyone who passed by. Which meant that for the boy, he had an easy cover. He slipped into the shadows of the overhanging roof, halfway obscuring himself from view. And then as Clarke watched carefully, his hand popped out over the table and snagged a medium-sized loaf.

While she contemplated why he didn’t grab the biggest one, surely that one wasn’t enough for a whole family, he appeared again out of the shadows.

He mimicked his earlier movement with another gesture for her to stay quiet, though this time there was a hint of a mischievous grin on his face. She had a feeling this time he meant she needed to stay quiet in general, so she smiled back and raised up her own finger to her lips. She knew that stealing was bad, her mother constantly reminded her about that. But this boy looked like he was a little too skinny so she imagined that outweighed the fact that he’d stolen something.

With a flick of his hair then, the boy gave her a tiny wave and turned on his heel. In a blink, he’d scampered down one of the alleyways and disappeared.

Clarke felt an instant pang of regret once he was gone from her view. 

For that brief moment, it’d felt like she’d had a friend and now he was gone. A part of her wanted to run after him and see where he went, but then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Byrne behind her.

“Come along Miss Griffin, it’s time to head back! We can’t have you out here for too much longer, that pretty skin of yours will burn. And I imagine you’re rather bored being down here instead of in the house.” The woman’s clipped voice was doing her best to sound chipper, but the disdain coming from her as she looked around them was impossible to completely mask.

On the contrary, Clarke was pretty sure this was the most fun she’d had in a long while. At least since the last time Wells had been here, and that had been almost a whole year or so at this point. 

As they gathered themselves back up and climbed into the carriage, Clarke stole one more look down into the town, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy again. But no such luck––the young thief had vanished. It left her to wonder, as she was jostled to and fro from the carriage’s wheels going over the bumpy dirt road, whether or not he would remember her. 

&&&

The sound of rolling thunder pulled Clarke out of her deep sleep. She blinked blearily for a moment, attempting to gauge the time. It was late summer, still a time of bright blue skies and bright days. But a storm was moving in and with it, ominous clouds that blackened the light and disorientated her mind.

Once she’d settled on the fact that it was morning, she felt a new drop in her stomach.

If it was morning, that also meant that it was her eighteenth birthday. A storm certainly felt like a foreboding way to ring her a new year of life.

She didn’t want to imagine that the storm on the horizon was any type of premonition. Her mother had always told her that those were things for the women on the streets who promised to tell people’s futures. Premonitions weren’t real, or at the very best a simple reaction of days gone by when people had to fend even more for themselves than they did now. And the Griffin family certainly didn’t need to fend for themselves.

Her feet slowly touched the cool tile beneath her floor as she brought herself up to a seated position. Byrne wasn’t in yet to dress her, for which she was thankful. Maybe it was because it was her birthday and the older woman wanted to let her sleep in. A futile effort as it turned out, but she appreciated the gesture. But that encouraging thought dissipated in the air, shattered alongside the crack of a canon in the distance.

Her eyes instinctively squeezed shut.

It was the sign that the hangings were complete.

If she’d known, she would have begged her father to pause them for the day. Just for her.

It made her stomach coil up with acidity, lurching at the echoing sounds that reverberated throughout the morning air.

She’d been fifteen when the new Chancellor had taken over. And when he had, Charles Pike had sent a letter to all of the ports and towns under his rule that he was going to be the one to bring an end to this “unchecked swell of piracy with an iron fist” (she’d never been able to get those exact words out of her mind after reading the letter herself). She hadn’t fully understood what that had meant, but she’d known enough. After all, it had been pirates who had been the ones behind the attack that killed her childhood best friend, and the previous Chancellor’s son, Wells Jaha.

She had understood that the courage of these pirates, these criminals of the high seas, had to be reined in. What she hadn’t understood was how that impacted someone like her father.

Until her last time to the port, six months or so after her fifteenth birthday, when she’d seen the gallows. When waiting to greet the Chancellor at the harbor, the sun twinkling off of the perfectly blue water, she’d seen the skeletons hanging from the rocks just off shore.

That had been her last time to town, the port, and the harbor. And that had been only the beginnings of the canons.

It felt selfish to wish that they wouldn’t fire them just because it was her birthday. 

Of course, ideally no one would have to hang regardless if she was hoping to celebrate or not. She couldn’t understand how it had been happening at such a higher frequency. Surely after three years of Chancellor Pike, the drive to piracy would have gone down? 

Apparently not though. On silent days, when the palm trees fell perfectly still and the ocean was like glass, she could sometimes hear them singing. 

It haunted her and she was selfishly glad she wasn’t awake today to hear if they’d sung this morning.

Swallowing deeply, Clarke got up and walked over to the small patio that connected to her room. She was greeted with more rolling thunder and from afar, she spotted a bolt of lighting kiss the watery horizon. The spike in hangings had felt like a poison from the start, seeping into the very soil where crops and life grew from. Even her father’s hair was turning gray faster, her mother not smiling as freely as she once did. This oasis she’d grown up in was increasingly changing for the worse. So no, even without the goosebumps from the chilling gallow songs, she couldn’t shake the instinct that something was wrong, the echoes of the canon blast thudding in her chest even after fading into the morning sounds of the coast. 

There isn’t an option for her though outside of just doing her best to ignore it. To compartmentalize the effects of it that she could feel, reminding herself that at the end of the day it must be to make life better in some form. Wells’ death was a horrific tragedy and she couldn’t blame his father for stepping back to allow another man to rule judgement across the seas.

It was with that determination in her mind that she prepared herself for the day. Byrne finally arrived, a staccato knock on her bedroom door followed by it swinging open and three maids walking in. 

“Happy birthday ma’am,” she said with as bright of a smile as she naturally could. She was an unusually straight-faced person, regardless of how often the Griffins had assured her she could relax around them. Apparently this was her  _ relaxed _ .

Clarke murmured a thank you as the other ladies began to prepare her to dress for the day. 

“Breakfast will be served in the sunroom,” Byrne called out to her as she laid out her birthday gift. A power blue and off-white striped dress, a fabric carefully selected by her mother to apparently play off the blue of her eyes. Custom-made, just arrived from Sanctum the other day. The folded layers of fabric crinkled as it was smoothed out.

One of the maids tightened her stays, Clarke allowing only a small gasp out at the sudden jerk to her torso so as not to make the girl nervous. She was still new, it wasn’t her fault.

“And then I believe your father had wanted to go on a walk with you today, but with that storm coming I advised him that it was best to wait,” continued Byrne, her voice clipped and as practical as always.

Clarke hummed in agreement. It wouldn’t be fitting to be out, seconds only from being caught in a storm. 

“I’ll try to get some painting in today, if you’re able to get my paints prepared,” she finally said. 

Byrne brightened up at that, beginning to go on about how beautifully her talents were coming along. 

Since Wells’ death, birthdays had lost somewhat of their meaning. Usually, she spent her special day distracting herself with family or the happier memories of their childhood. Not his body on the bottom of the ocean, a slash of the sword opening him up to the world and now the creatures of the deep, instead of being with her here today like he used to. What she’d give for one more stroll with him throughout the gardens, arms intertwined as they whispered stories and jokes to each other.

It must be the storm that was making her so melancholy today. The canon, ringing in her ears and reminding her of the gruesome world that lay await outside of her otherwise happy home.

But her maids chatted happily on as layer by layer of clothing was added. It was Byrne’s task to handle the final step though, her gentle if firm hands the only ones trusted enough to handle the expensive fabric. When it was pulled completely down, her lady’s maid smile was one of the most genuine ones she’d seen in her all her life.

“It’s your eighteenth birthday, Clarke,” she said, her voice like a warm hug. “Today will be an extra special one.”

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered, cherishing the hope as tightly as she could.

Byrne gently touched a hand to her cheek before moving to get the shoes that Clarke would wear all day long.

She sighed.

She would have to do her best to make the most of the day.

And for the most part, she did. Somehow. Hours passed and it was nearly supper time when Clarke passed by the drawing room. 

The day had passed all too slowly, as all did lately, and the lingering storm had done nothing to quell her restlessness. While she’d painted for a while, the inconsistent lighting from the clouds and on-and-off again rain had irritated her. And though she’d found respite with afternoon tea and cakes with her mother, that mood had since evaporated. 

So when she heard her parents angrily conversing in the drawing room, she determined that even though eavesdropping wasn’t proper behavior, it had been a dull enough birthday and she might as well listen in. Inside the room, she could faintly hear them pacing. That was new. 

She edged herself closer to the door, hoping that no one walked by and noticed how awkwardly she had knelt alongside the door to listen through the keyframe.

“How are we still having this conversation Jake?” 

Clarke was surprised at the frustration in her mother’s voice. They almost never argued and it was usually over small things. Trivial enough to only get heated for a little bit before they talked it out and moved on. But this was a raw irritation and words that implied this wasn’t an argument that had been put to rest. 

“We have to do something though,” she heard her father urge. “It’s past the point of us being able to ignore it.”

“You know I don’t trust Pike. I cannot in good conscience send Clarke to stay with him.”

That was her mother’s voice. Sharp, angry.

But more shocking than all of that was hearing her own name, spoken with that urgency and… was that fear?

“I don’t trust him either.” Her father’s voice was muffled, as if he was holding his head in his hands––a common position for him when he was stressed.

There was a drawn out pause and for a moment, Clarke was worried that they’d figured out that she was outside. But then finally:

“I did hear back though, if you’re still willing to consider it.”

Her mother’s quick intake of breath was loud enough that Clarke could hear it. 

“I suppose I did say I would. I just hadn’t thought he’d get back to us in time. That we’d even be able to reach him. How did it happen?” 

The pacing resumed.

“You know him, he’s always had connections. And once he heard about a possible assassination, I can only imagine it expediated his response.”

Clarke froze, her hand slipping from its position on the door as she had leaned in.

Assassination?

There was no possible way that she’d misheard them. While the shut door implied secrecy, neither of them were entirely holding back on the volume of their voices. She hadn’t misunderstood any other words. And her name… they’d mentioned her.

In a split second, she jerked back up to a standing position and forced the door open. It was a mistake for them to have not locked the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she announced to her stunned parents as they realized that she had entered the room.

“I don’t care,” she continued before they could stop her. “I won’t leave you two, even if someone wants me dead. Let them try, Polis is safe and I know the Griffin household would never fall.”

She stood as tall as she could, chin tilted up to give herself some semblance of authority on the conversation. Her parents were so startled, she almost let herself believe that she really had convinced them. But that dream shattered within a minute, as soon as her parents gathered their wits together.

“Absolutely not,” Jake responded gruffly. “This isn’t just an idle threat, your life is in danger.”

“From who?” Clarke asked hotly. “Can’t we or Pike negotiate?

“What does that matter?” He challenged back. “No bribe will work against them, this isn’t about money. These people will hesitate at nothing to send a message and we won’t let you be caught up in this.”

“So you’re what? Sending me away?”

Anger bubbled up in her as she waited for them to respond. 

“And you didn’t think to ask me? I won’t be a coward!” She exploded, unable to figure out which one of them to glare at more.

“It’s out of the question,” Abby snapped. “We won’t have you stay just to invite your death on our doorstep. We’d never be able to live with ourselves if something happened to you and we could have stopped it.”

“Clarke, please.” Her father’s gaze was imploring.

She looked between them, noting the terror in their eyes that she’d try to stay. This threat was no passing comment and she couldn’t bear the idea of making them go through this. So as much as she wanted to stay, not give into fear, she knew it was out of the question. 

“What do I need to do then?” She asked, admitting defeat to herself as she accepted that fate had a new plan in mind for her.

The slowness of the day rapidly spiraled into chaos. The storm from the morning now seemed so small.

Only Byrne was clued into it, the rest of the servants being dismissed early that day. A small trunk was crammed with clothes for her, anything relatively simple that wasn’t too ornate. She left behind her paints, anything of true value. A part of her wondered if it would be worth having things to trade, but her parents seemed confident that it wouldn’t be something she needed to concern herself with. That only created more questions in her mind, but for now she let it go. 

Then with her mother pulling a deep blue cloak around Clarke’s shoulders, still wearing her birthday dress, it was time to leave. To say goodbye, at least temporarily, to the house she’d grown up in her whole life. To even say goodbye to a life she understood and accepted, stepping into an unknown future.

It was terrifying and all of the strength Clarke had always believed she held wavered.

But there wasn’t time to focus on that and she had to push that fear back into her. They’d have to avoid using a carriage to draw attention to themselves so as her and her parents stepped out onto the cobblestones at the end of the property, she steeled herself for what was to come. 

The night was eerily quiet. Too quiet for Clarke’s tastes.

She’d always imagined the port to be bustling, filled with people at all times. And maybe it once had. But an echo of the canon reverberated in her chest as they hurried through the vacant town. Hangings based on only suspicions had a way of creating an environment where neighbors distrusted neighbors. If leaving your house at night drew doubt to your honor, why come out? The thought brought a bile to Clarke’s mouth at the idea. She’d only had that one afternoon in the port; Byrne was too nervous to repeat it even though nothing had gone wrong. But that image that Clarke had hung onto for so long was nothing but a memory, faint in her grasp and a remnant of times gone by. 

Few lights lined their way, and even as the buildings loomed crooked and dark over the streets, it was probably for the best. The three of them slipped through alleys and around corners, moving as a line to reduce their visibility.

The stealth that they attempted ratcheted up Clarke’s pulse. 

Did this mean that her life was in danger this very moment? Were they not nearly as pre-emptive to this as she’d assumed?

Her thoughts tumbled over each other as they hurried closer and closer to the water. A lone seagull cawed overhead and it left goosebumps on her arms underneath the cloak. 

The chill that ran through her had nothing to do with the still warm, tropical night. Maybe her gut instinct wasn’t so off, she thought with dread, as they passed the hanging square. Three bodies swayed in the night breeze. Focusing in on her father’s back, she determinedly looked away. The canons this morning truly had been a sign. 

As they moved, the sounds of the ocean grew louder, filling the otherwise empty air. Upon arriving at the docks, Clarke couldn’t fight back the gasp that she emitted at the sight up ahead of them. 

A large ship was docked, isolated and by itself away from the others. Outside of Naval fleets, it was the largest one she’d seen. Something about it was narrow, darker. There were no painted sides to it, its wood as natural as the day it had been when it had been built. The bow had a chipped, worn carving of a mermaid on it. And in the night’s darkness with only the moon to light it, a black flag at the top of the tallest mast––a faded skull and crossbones illuminated. 

“You must be joking,” she swore, grabbing at her mother’s arm. 

In front of them, her father paused and turned once he realized that they’d both stopped.

“Clarke, we don’t have time to delay,” he urged. 

She shook her head, trying to not panic. “You’re mistaken. You have to be. That’s a pirate ship!” 

Were they not paying attention to where they were taking her?

This was madness.

“Honey, you have to trust us.” She’d never seen her mother’s eyes so wide, so filled with anxiety. Abby Griffin always stood tall and proud; even in the drawing room she’d been on edge but not this nervous. Clarke gulped, her eyes flipping between her parents as she tried to process the risk they were taking.

Her focus was caught by the sudden illumination of a lantern appearing by the ship and a figure appeared from the darkness. Tall and broad, the silhouette stood perfectly still. Even in the night from a distance, Clarke could feel the person’s steady stare at them.

“It’ll be okay,” her father whispered, “it’ll all be okay.” 

The depth of danger that she must be in finally set in for Clarke. For her parents to have reached this conclusion. That their own home wasn’t safe enough, that this small inlet was no longer the safe haven she’d always believed it to be. The heartbreak in her parents’ eyes was palpable and the reality was crushing, but she found herself nodding to them.

If they’d decided this was the best option for her, she had to be strong for them. 

Her palms grew sweaty the closer they got.

For all of the hangings around Polis and neighboring ports, she’d never actually seen a pirate ship. It did feel different than the other ships that stopped here, but even without the grandeur of Sanctum’s naval ships it still had an energy behind it that felt powerful. 

“You made it safely then!” Came a voice from the silhouette, now in speaking distance from them.

More surprising than the warmth of the man’s voice though was the smile that broke apart on her own father’s face, as well as her mother’s. Clarke’s trepidation broke away as she now became confused. 

“It’s good to see you, Kane.” Her father placed her trunk down and the two men embraced.

Now up close, she could see the man better. He was as tall as Jake, his hair a dark brown, salt and pepper gray streaks highlighted by the light of the lantern. The sight of the long sword and muskets on each respective hit spiked more nerves in her though, despite how kind his face was.

A face that then turned to look at her.

“You probably don’t recognize me with the beard,” he remarked kindly to Clarke, who could only respond with a blank stare.

“Clarke, this is Captain Marcus Kane,” Abby explained. “He’s an old friend who split ways with the Navy back when your father still served. Back when Jaha first became Chancellor. He used to come around when you were a very little girl.” 

While the explanation didn’t cause her to recollect those supposed memories, she bobbed down in a small curtsy. Her father’s naval career was practically a different life; it had been so long ago, but she felt her own anxiety ease somewhat at the connection. Despite being on edge, it felt better to know that this was a man her parents had once known. That didn’t stop her eyes from drifting back up to the flag above them.

Kane caught the direction of her gaze, tracing the line with a look of his own before looking back at her sheepishly.

“Sailing is all I know,” he explained vaguely. “It was the… natural solution.” 

Piracy hardly seemed natural to Clarke but she stayed silent. 

“And to evade an enemy, you have to think like one,” came Jake’s voice from beside her. His tone was serious again and when Clarke looked over at him, tears had welled up in the corners of his eyes.

Oh, that was right. She wasn’t just saying goodbye to her home, but to her parents as well. 

Her vision grew misty as she fought the urge to cry. Knowing now that her parents were willing to have her board a pirate ship to avoid the potential of death, meant that there really was no other choice. She couldn’t waste anyone’s time, not when they’d already risked so much for her.

The group hug was tight, her parents wrapped around them. Kane lifted her luggage to take aboard himself, watching with his own watery smile at the farewell.

“Stay strong,” her mother whispered against her skin as she planted a kiss to her forehead.

“I will,” she promised. She hoped she could follow through.

Finally though, it was time to pull back. 

Clarke wiped furiously at her eyes as Kane exchanged his own hugs with her parents, whispered promises of keeping Clarke safe made to each of them. And then they had to slink away back into the night, leaving Clarke to follow Kane up onto the ship. 

“Welcome aboard the Eden,” he announced to her once they were on deck. Behind them, the gangplank was pulled up and it was then that she registered that they weren’t alone. It made sense, he must have a crew if he was a captain, but she still almost jumped out of her skin at the sound.

“I’ll take you to my office to get a few things explained before you get some sleep,” he said, already beginning to move again. She blinked and he passed her trunk to someone. As her eyes adjusted to being on the ship now, away from the few lights of the port, she realized that the majority of the crew was in fact on deck with them right now.

“Get a move on to set sail!” Kane commanded loudly, sweeping past the huddled forms. It was difficult for Clarke to get a good look at any of their faces before they disappeared further in the dark to prepare the ship to depart. A few of them looked like they might have been women, much to her surprise. And as much as she didn’t want to think too long on that, it impressed her. 

They’d almost made it across the deck when with a deep heavy groan, as if sighing, the ship came to life. 

Clarke stumbled at the sudden movement, listening as voices began to call out orders to each other. She didn’t know what half of it meant but as she regained her balance, she watched as the sails unfurled and obscured the stars above. And then they began to move, waves crashing against sides as it slowly picked up speed on its way out of the cove.

“Are you coming, Clarke?” She looked over to see Kane smiling at her look of astonishment. “I promise you’ll have a much better view in the morning.”

She snapped her jaw shut and once again followed him blindly.

She had no frame of perspective of what she could have expected his office to look like, so she couldn’t tell if she was surprised by it. Maybe she’d assumed that all pirates lived in squalor. But this office was clean. One wall was lined with maps, scribbles of ink covering them. Notes, maybe even drawings. The wall opposite of it was lined with muskets and swords, gleaming in the moonlight coming in from the window at the back. The thick glass faded the light, softening it as it filtered through. She was reminded of her father’s comment: Kane had once been a Naval officer. That must be part of it.

“I understand this is a strange night for you,” he said gently. He was standing behind a solitary desk in the room. It was the messiest part of the room with stray parchment, a quill and ink, and (if she wasn’t mistaken) a few pieces of gold. 

“That’s an understatement,” she replied with an attempt at a smile. 

He raised his arms alongside him. “It’s my hope that Eden can become a safe haven for you, as long as it’s necessary. Before I get too into anything, do you have any initial questions? About the ship? The threat?”

The first question that came to Clarke’s mind wasn’t the one she’d expected herself to ask.

“Are you religious?” She asked curiously. “The ship, you said it’s name was Eden.”

“Her name,” Kane corrected, smiling. “We use feminine descriptors for our ships. And ah, I am not.” He let out a long exhale, his eyes briefly looking beyond her and into a memory. “My mother was though. Deeply. She died in a wayward factory accident years ago, so I felt that it was appropriate to name my ship after her beliefs. And its own way, out on the water she truly is a haven for us.”

She nodded along. It was sweet; one more surprise in her now growing list of unexpected knowledge about pirates. 

“Do you want to discuss the current threat? How much do you know about it?”

Clarke opened her mouth to reply but then closed it as she thought about it more. Eventually, she shook her head.

“I don’t believe so. Not tonight at least, I think I’d like to process it on my own some first,” she explained. He seemed satisfied with that response.

“You’ll be safe on the ship, I put my life on that. We’ve had a recent success”  _ she glanced down at the gold _ “and we’re able to wait some time in between before making another run. I won’t put you in any crossfire. No one will board this ship without me knowing about it.” 

She let out a laugh.

“Safe on a pirate ship,” she wryly remarked. “Not something I thought I’d ever hear.”

“It certainly is unexpected, which is exactly what your parents hoped. I do advise though,” he tilted his head towards her, “that you take the utmost caution at all times. Do not trust anyone, even with myself as the captain of this ship. I trust my sailors, but always be on your guard. It’s the only way to live out here.”

Clarke’s eyes widened at his warning. But as if not fully realizing how ominous he sounded, Kane then smiled at her.

“But in the meantime, I will be having one of my own guard you since I will be preoccupied, of course, with running my own ship. And I believe this is him now!”

If it wasn’t for her heightened nerves, she would have almost entirely missed the creaking of the door behind them opening and then closing.

She whirled around, hand flying to her chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” muttered an obstinate voice. She stared at the newcomer.

There was something familiar about his face. The sharp way his nose angled down, the upward stroke of his cheekbones. Hair that might have been freshly cut at one point, now with an overgrown edge to it as it grew out just past his ears. Three thin, almost translucent pink scars traced down the left side of his face.

“You!” She burst out unexpectedly. The young man blinked in surprise at her. “You’re the one from the wanted posters!” 

She didn’t mean to sound borderline hysterical. The whole point of her being on this damn ship was that she was trying to be brave, to be strong for her parents. But she’d seen that angular face, twisted into a smirk, sketched out onto wanted posters that had even managed to make their way to the Griffin household. Despite the way he had slunk in, his shoulders to his ears and his face sullen, he hadn’t been able to hide himself for who he was.

A well-known criminal, a branded pirate that had eluded the gallows for years at this point.

“Ah, well Mr. Murphy here does have quite the reputation preceding him,” came Kane’s voice from behind her. Surely she was imagining the pride that she could have sworn she heard in his voice.

“John Murphy, Miss Clarke Griffin. Clarke, Mr. Murphy here is going to be looking after you. Consider him a personal bodyguard, as well as a source of information for your time here aboard,” he continued on.

Clarke’s eyes hadn’t left Murphy’s, nor had he stopped looking at her either. The longer Kane talked, his presence now completely in focus, Murphy had slowly unfolded himself. His shoulders rolled back, his posture straightening and adding to his height. The way he’d held himself back was exchanged for a defiant jut of his jaw. He was transforming into the pirate she recognized him as well. “The Cockroach” was his nickname, too sly to hold onto for too long. The list of crimes boggling as the soldiers at the door had questioned if she’d ever seen his face before. She hadn’t, but she’d never forgotten the way that the illustration of his face had captured a piercing gaze, as if he’d been able to see her through the parchment.

And he was the one that Kane had apparently hand selected to watch over her. Of course she’d have a pirate assigned to her, she was still processing the fact that she was on a pirate ship, but something about this unnerved her.

She wondered if when Kane had mentioned to use caution while aboard, if this was who he’d been talking about. It wouldn’t make sense for him to then select him as her guard, but then again nothing made sense in desperate times.

“If that’s all then,” Kane’s voice broke her thoughts again and she turned to see him smiling kindly towards her, “then I imagine you’d like to get some sleep. It’s been a long night for you.”

She could only nod.

“Great!” He clapped his hands. “Mr. Murphy, please escort Clarke to her chambers. You can get the grand tour of the ship tomorrow, and hopefully it won’t take you long to find your sea legs.”

And with that, he dismissed the two of them from his office. In a haze, Clarke followed Murphy as he slid back out into the hallway. When a wave cast the ship further over than she was prepared for her, she stumbled slightly and desperately reached out for the wall next to her to steady herself. With her luck of course, Murphy chose that time to turn around. He gleefully grinned at her.

“Try not to fall,” he teased, offering her no help.

“I won’t,” she growled back. It was unbelievable how in just four words he’d managed to get under her skin. She didn’t know if it was a pirate skill or just some sort of innate part of Murphy’s personality. 

Kane had briefly called him John, but otherwise he seemed happy to use a polite form of addressing him with his last name. Well, he’d get no “mister” from Clarke. She immediately decided that he was just Murphy to her, nothing more and nothing less. 

“You can just point me in the direction of my rooms,” Clarke instructed as she straightened herself up. “No need to escort me all of the way there.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He took a step closer to her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it somehow felt like bragging that he didn’t need to worry about keeping his balance. It was probably incredibly apparent it was her first time on a ship. “You see, that entirely defeats the purpose of me serving as your guard. Just letting you wander. You’d probably be thrown right off the side into the ocean.”

She couldn’t help the unladylike snort that came from her at that. Even if it was a realistic notion. 

“I’m sure you don’t really want to stoop to the level of just watching over me like a nursemaid.” Maybe she could play on his vanity. 

If only he would stop walking closer to her, right up until he was barely an arms length away. Too close to her, her breath catching as she looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than her, maybe not as much as some men were, but even with his more narrow frame she still felt dwarfed by him. Maybe it was the cockiness in the way he carried himself that made it so.

“It’s not beneath me, Kane is my captain. Nothing about who I am means I don’t get to listen to orders.” His smirk was back.

“Oh, you answer to people now is it?” She retorted. So much for that idea she had.

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m just a lowly pirate.”

“You have quite the reputation for just some  _ lowly pirate _ ,” Clarke hissed, losing her ability to play aloof. Her irritation was too much now.

Murphy smirked, leaning in closer to her. Now she could distinctly see the scars on his face. They’d been faint lines on the wanted poster, barely visible in the dim lights of Kane’s room. Though the hallway wasn’t much better lit, a single lantern was hanging alongside the wall and they seemed taught against his skin. Healed, but a burden.

“Fine. Infamous, sure. In charge of my own ship, not quite yet. But maybe you’ll be my good luck charm.” His breath was warm against her cheek and Clarke flinched back, scowling at his arrogance.

“I’m going to be nothing to you and the second it is safe for me to be back at the port, we’ll be able to pretend like absolutely none of this ever happened.”

His eyes narrowed. It hadn’t taken much for her to spit out those words, but she’d thought about it for too long she would have almost wondered if it had been rejection that flitted across his face.

He bared his teeth.

“Deal.”

A heavy silence fell between them, a staredown locking them into place. But if they waited much longer, Kane would come and see them in a stalemate and somehow that was something instrincialy they both knew they didn’t want to happen. 

So with a toss of her hair over her shoulder, Clarke gestured towards the hall. He got a chuckle at her wordless guidance, but he turned on his heel all the same and she followed him deeper into the ship.

She knew she’d get a full tour of the ship tomorrow, but she hated the way it felt to be out of her element here. As a bodyguard it would be his duty, but the idea that she was already having to place this much trust in Murphy unnerved her. But even as much as she almost expected him to disappear around corners and fend for herself, he remained at a steady pace in front of her. She was fairly certain he was whistling to himself as well. 

She hated how much the corners of her mouth wanted to quirk up into a smile at the sound of it.

Finally, after what felt like the longest trek through the ship (somehow dodging the main deck), she found herself in one last hallway. Murphy had come to such a quick stop that she almost ran into him. His grin when she hurried to pull herself back made her realize with a frown that he’d definitely done it on purpose.

“Your quarters,” he drawled, sweeping his arm to the side and pointing at the door closest to them.

She hadn’t really been expecting an entire room to herself.

“Try not to leave your room at night,” Murphy continued. “I’ll be downstairs in the galley but I’ll be back in the morning. I hope you’re not expecting to just get to lounge around all day while you’re here.”

She ignored his comment, unbothered by the concept of working on the ship, and instead frowned.

“You’re down below instead of up here?”

It seemed like a potentially flawed situation to have them so separated, but she also wasn’t complaining if it meant that she wouldn’t have to be plagued by his presence at all times.

Murphy cocked his head at her, a slow and mischievous grin slowly growing on his face at her question. 

“Is that an invitation to share your bed? My, my. I hadn’t heard that about the ladies in Polis,” he asked, his voice falling somewhere between mocking and light-hearted. She didn’t know how he toed that line so perfectly and she didn’t care. 

Her face ablaze with embarrassment at his implication, she slammed the door shut right in front of that blasted smirk of his. 

She could hear him laughing the whole way down the hall to head down below deck. She couldn’t shake her irritation at first and she rested her head against the wooden door as she attempted to slow her breathing down. This was her life now for the foreseeable future. She had to adjust, learn to not let that smarmy asshole of a pirate get under her skin so easily. When the heat of the moment had dissipated, her breathing no longer ragged and her temper cooled, she allowed herself to process the room. 

It had to have been an officer's room at some point. One lone porthole, though it was too dark to see the churning water of the ocean. For that, she was thankful.

But there was little else to the room, simply a wardrobe and then (she discovered this part when she stubbed her toe), her chest of clothes shoved part way under the bed. The sight of the rich brown leather, its brass clasps barely glinting in the single light of the room, had her choking back a sob. 

Who knew when she was going to see them again? Feel her father’s hugs or her mother’s gentle hands throughout her hair?

The moment she collapsed onto the bed, Clarke let the tears flow that had been waiting to come out of her. The tension and nerves from the day finally caught up to her. How deep the fear really ran through her. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she’d always thought she was.

But once she had nothing left to cry out, the gentle rocking of the boat lulled her body’s exhaustion into a deep slumber where she dreamt of home and chased a young boy through the market, never able to quite catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> A note on multi-chapters in the initiative: I will be continuing to write these stories regardless, but donating for a chapter update secures its line up in my list of WIPs right now. You can always do a monetary donation, but we have other non-financial ways to contribute listed on [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) as well! 
> 
> **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


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